MEMORIES

A foreign land, a foreign shore

And monsoon rains began to pour.

The westerner soon found a nitch,

There to escape the rainy pitch.

Within the doorway huddled low,

A man in rags begged to know,

"Please Sir, I ask your help.

For my affliction sorely felt.

The westerner's reply unkind

Was curt and pointed by design.

With a scowling attitude

He thought to ask for money rude.

I ask no coins from you kind sir

For lack of food I shall endure.

That which I ask/ more precious still

Will cost you not, if please you will.

I ask your memories to share

Thoughts of times that passed with care.

Hearts of fondness, lips of smile

Or frightened face of a lost child.

I have no memories of my own,

No thoughts beyond a monotone,

No reflections as it were,

No thoughtful monsters to inter.

From each new day unto the next

I have no course to recollect

For nothing past dares to entreat

Where past and present cannot meet.

Well my man, I wish I had

No memory of things so bad

Or wish that I could then forget

That which fostered my neglect.

But sir, I say with bad is good,

If only it is understood.

The past cannot be changed my friend

But the future is ours to amend.

Without the good there is no bad,

Without elation there's  no sad,

Without sorrow there is no gay,

Without the night there is no day.

I would trade my tattered soul

If once again I could be whole,

Those memories of found embrace,

To recall my mothers face."

The westerner, with coin in hand,

Leaned over and said to the man,

"Please accept this coin instead

For even memories of dread

Are precious things that I must say,

I had not thought of in that way.

With your indulgence if may,

I am a wiser man today."

~Robert E Browne~